


Trial By Fire

by Elwyne



Series: The Ex-Detectives [7]
Category: Broadchurch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyne/pseuds/Elwyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec and Ellie's friendship has unexpected consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial By Fire

A light rain frosted Ellie's hair as she hurried the last few blocks toward home. The fresh scent of spring mingled with that of wet asphalt on the air. It was Friday at last: a new paycheck on deposit at the bank, a week's worth of groceries in the sack she carried, a half-formed plan to invite Alec and Teresa to Sunday tea taking shape in the back of her mind. She looked forward to a quiet evening with her boys, with a lazy morning to follow.

Instead, the world went dark. Ellie stumbled, clutching at her face; a cloth sack over her head muffled her scream. The groceries fell to the pavement with a wet thump. Strong hands yanked her handbag free and twisted her arms behind her back. She let her body go limp, falling to her knees and pulling her attacker down with her. He hung on, stumbling and swearing; then cold metal pinched her skin, and a pair of handcuffs snapped shut around her wrists. 

Rolling onto her side Ellie lashed out with both feet. Someone yelped as her heel made contact with bone. Then a second pair of arms closed around her ankles. Twisting and kicking she was lifted sideways like a rolled-up carpet and hurled into the back of a car. Someone climbed in beside her and pulled her roughly upright. 

"I don't care if you live or die, cunt, so shut it if you know what's good for you."

The voice was young, male, smothering fear with a thick layer of bravado, like any of a hundred would-be toughs at Tom's school. She shrank away from him, sliding awkwardly across the cracked vinyl seat. Car doors slammed and the engine coughed to life.

Twisting herself into a more tenable position, Ellie tried to think. Mrs. Cooper would be expecting her to collect Freddy at any moment. Tom would be home shortly after. A surge of panic threatened; was Tom involved? Was her family in danger?

"What do you want from me?" she said.

"Nuffing," the young man answered. "So long's your bloke knows 'is place, you'll be right."

"Shut it," said a deeper voice from the front of the car. Ellie huddled against the seat, half in horror and half in relief. It was Alec they wanted, not Tom. Tom was safe. Tom would look after his little brother. Her children would not be harmed.

All she had to do was get back to them.

And try not to worry about Alec.

 

"Sir," PC Tate called across the empty squad room. "Telephone for you."

Alec took off his glasses and sighed over the heap of paperwork on his desk. "Is it urgent?"

"It's Tom Miller, sir. He asked for you special."

Frowning Alec picked up the phone. "Hardy."

"Is my mum with you?" the boy demanded.

"No, Tom, she isn't. What's wrong?"

"She ought to have been home ages ago," said Tom. "She doesn't answer her mobile, I had to fetch Freddy from the neighbors', and there's nothing in, she was going to market -"

"Slow down," said Alec. "You boys are home alone?"

"Yes sir." Tom's voice quavered; he sounded eleven all over again.

"Okay, Tom, here's what we'll do. I'm going to send someone around to sit with you. We'll see you're looked after, and then I'll find out what's keeping your mum. That sound all right to you?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said with relief.

Alec gave Tom his mobile number and rang off. "Tate," he called. "What are you doing right now?"

"Filing reports, sir," she answered.

"Leave it," said Alec, pulling on his coat. "You're coming with me."

 

Ellie slumped against the car door, listening to the humming of the road. They had been driving for hours, straight out of town through rush-hour traffic and into the country. Her captors maintained a grim silence. The sound of passing cars thinned to nothing. Ellie thought about her boys. They'd be hungry and frightened by now; would Mrs. Cooper take them in for the night? Would Tom be stout enough to ask for help? Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked hard. He was a good boy, she knew. He'd put on a brave face for his brother. They would be all right.

At long last the car turned onto a bumpy track. The young man beside her let out a sigh of relief as they pulled to a stop. The engine died with a rattle, the car doors opened, and a meaty hand closed on her upper arm.

"Don't do you no good to fight," said the deeper voice from the front seat. He sounded older, taller, and Ellie sensed a dangerous strength in his grip. She allowed herself to be helped from the car. Here the air was cooler, full of the sound of crickets and the rustling of wind over open fields. A house door opened ahead; Ellie stumbled across a weedy lawn, over a single step, into a close, humid room reeking of cheap tobacco. Floorboards squeaked and groaned with every step. Nearby someone sniffled, stifling tears.

Another door opened, hinges shrieking protest, and another pair of hands took her other arm. Ellie stiffened as the two men dragged her forward. A breath of cool, musty air flowed upward; then the ground vanished beneath her, and only the strong arms of her captors kept her from a fall. Her boots scuffed against a step and she found her footing. At the bottom of the short flight they stopped. Keys rattled; the cuffs fell away from her wrists and she was thrown roughly forward onto the packed earth floor. Turning onto her back she tore the sack from her head just in time to catch sight of the cellar door slamming shut above her.

 

Three eggs smashed upon the pavement, and an apple in the street. Alec had retraced Ellie's steps from her job, onto the number eight express bus, to the market around the corner from her house. A dozen yards from her own front door the trail went cold. 

"The families in these three flats were not at home at the time in question," Tate reported. "The grandmother in number six is deaf and has not been at the window all evening. The woman in nine thinks she may have seen a yellow car double-parked at the corner when she got home. She noticed it because it blocked the street."

"But she didn't see Ellie," Alec sighed. "What time was that?"

"A bit before six, sir."

"Call it in. And have Tyler run a trace on Ellie's mobile. You have the number?"

"Yes, sir." PC Tate drew out her phone and walked away. Alec looked around the scene. There were no tyre marks, no cigarette ends, none of the usual signs of someone lying in wait. The rest of the groceries had been cleared away. Alec paced the street, peeking in rubbish bins. None of them contained a clue.

What the hell would anyone want with Ellie Miller?

"Sir," said Tate behind him. "You're wanted back at the station, sir."

"I'm busy." He slammed the lid of the last bin and strode back up the street toward his car.

"Mulgrew says it's urgent, sir."

"Bloody hell." Chief Mulgrew didn't like him much, but she was a good copper. She wouldn't pull him in for no reason. Still, he was reluctant to leave the scene. He took out his phone and dialed Ellie's number for what seemed the hundredth time. After a half-dozen rings the voicemail picked up, Ellie's tired but cheerful voice offering to return calls 'when I get a minute.' Alec returned the phone to his pocket with a grunt.

"Sir," said Tate. "Forgive my saying, sir, but if they wanted her dead she'd be dead. They wouldn't have bothered to take her."

Alec stared at his subordinate. "Your point, Constable?"

Tate's dark skin flushed darker. "We'll find her, sir."

"For god's sake, Tate," he muttered. "I hope you're right."

 

The cellar was a wide, windowless rectangle cut straight into the earth, the low ceiling supported here and there with slender wooden beams. A single bare bulb hanging in the middle of the room offered weak illumination. A folding cot was set in one corner, pillow and blanket piled on top. Beside it a rickety table held a pitcher of water, a cup, and a basket of bread and cheese. Ellie wondered how long they had planned for her arrival - and how long they planned to keep her.

Overhead, footsteps echoed in a barrage of creaking wood. One lightweight set moved nervously in a small square; the woman she'd heard crying, Ellie thought, seeking refuge in her kitchen. A heavier set crossed from the front of the house to the cellar door, setting a restless pace back and forth. Two others moved intermittently. Dim voices murmured through the ceiling, but she could neither distinguish them nor make out any words.

Ellie climbed the steps and pressed her ear to the door. After locking her in, her captors had dragged some large piece of furniture in front of it. She could hear nothing through it. Swallowing her rising panic, Ellie sat down on the top step and did her best to think.

 

"This message is for Detective Inspector Alec Hardy." The voice was muffled, as if the mouthpiece were half-buried in mud. "Your failure cost us a loved one, and so we take one of yours. She will be returned when we have justice. Come for her, and we kill her."

Alec slumped in his chair with his head in his hands. Chief Mulgrew sat perched on the edge of his desk, a habit he despised. She switched off the recorder and let out a sigh.

"They called into the anonymous tip line," she said. "The voice is disguised and the call untraceable. Does the message ring any bells for you?"

"It's about Sandbrook," he muttered. "It has to be."

"That narrows it down." 

"'Your failure,' it said," he went on. "It can only be the Dutton family. Their daughter would still be alive if I hadn't botched the case."

"Hardy," Mulgrew warned.

"Bollocks." Alec pushed himself out of his chair and pulled on his coat. "I'm going. I'll ring Crane on the way."

"Hardy!" Mulgrew's voice resounded through the station. Several PCs jumped, and Alec stopped mid-stride. For an instant no one breathed.

"PC Wright," said Mulgrew evenly. "Telephone to Sandbrook. I'll speak to Crane myself."

"Yes, mum," the PC responded.

"It's her case, Hardy. You'll stay out of it."

"Like hell I will," Alec snapped, and he strode out of the station.

 

Alec gripped the wheel white-knuckled as the car hurtled through the dark. "Don't get involved," he muttered to himself. "Don't get bloody involved. Fuck!"

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He snatched it out and put it to his ear without looking. "Hardy," he barked.

"PC Tate, sir. Got that address for you, sir."

"Good. Text it to me."

"Yes sir. Also, Mrs. Miller's phone has been traced to that location. They're not very smart, sir."

"That doesn't make them any less dangerous. Now get off the line before Mulgrew catches you."

"Sir," she said with a reproachful tone. "If you don't mind my saying, Tom Miller's had it hard. If I can help find his mum, it's the least I can do. The chief can suspend me if she likes, afterward."

Alec felt a burst of gratitude for the taciturn constable. "You're a good copper, Tate," he muttered.

"Thank you, sir."

"Keep me apprised of any developments."

"Yes, sir, I will. Good luck."

Alec returned the phone to his pocket and put on speed.

 

Pipes.

Two thin water lines ran across the ceiling in one corner of the cellar. They rang softly at Ellie's touch. Indoor plumbing less than twenty years old, she mused; what kind of place was this? What sort of people lived there?

The sort who lock strangers in the cellar, she grumbled to herself.

Still, the pipes presented an opportunity. If she could find something to bang against them... Returning to the rough living area she set the food and water on the floor and turned the flimsy metal table on its back. Rust had chewed through in several places; one leg was already loose. With a few swift kicks she snapped it off, and hefted the slender weapon in her hands.

Now all she needed was someone to hear.

 

Blue and red lights flashed through the trees ahead. Alec swerved onto the narrow track and pulled up alongside the half-dozen cars already there. Floodlights poured over the cabin like daylight, shining in through age-warped windows, throwing sharp shadows under every knot and bulge in the ancient siding. Alec leaped out of the car and ran for the front door.

Crane met him in the entryway. "She's not here," she said brusquely. 

"That's impossible," said Alec. "We traced her mobile."

"Her mobile's here, handbag, identification. The family say they found it along the road."

"Do you believe them?"

Crane snorted. "What I believe doesn't matter. She isn't here."

Alec pushed past her into the house. Three men, father and sons from the look of them, sat glowering on the sofa. In the kitchen opposite a thin grey woman wept quietly. Uniformed constables streamed in and out of every door, the warped floorboards under their feet shrieking like a mob of tortured seabirds. Beneath the noise and the murmur of voices he could just make out a steady metallic ring.

"What's that sound?" he asked.

Crane shrugged. "Bad pipes? Plumbing's rather an afterthought around here."

"Everyone," Alec barked. "Stop what you're doing."

Every uniform froze. Conversation ceased; he could hear the crickets outside, and Mrs. Dutton's woeful weeping. The pipes rang softly through the floor. Bang bang bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang bang bang. Alec felt the blood rush to his head.

"Cellar," he choked. "There has to be a cellar."

The houseful of constables bent, pulling up rugs and moving furniture. The ringing sound was lost among the scrapes and thumping. Finally someone shouted.

"Over here, sir!"

Alec burst across the room, into a narrow hallway made narrower by an immense wardrobe standing against one wall. On the floor a constable knelt, a tattered rug in his hands, looking down at a fresh set of scratches in the hoary wood. Alec grabbed a corner of the wardrobe; a half-dozen officers leaped to his aid, and they heaved the hulking thing aside.

Behind it was a door. The handle refused to turn; Alec delivered a savage kick to the latch, splintering the ancient wood. Hinges shrieked as the door flew open, and Alec peered downward into a dimly lit cellar.

His voice shook. "Ellie?"

For a moment there was no sound. Then she emerged from a dark corner, trembling with exhaustion, a bar of rusty metal clutched in one hand. It fell to the ground with a muted clatter.

"God, where have you been?"

Alec plunged down the stairs, and at the last moment refrained from seizing her in his arms. With the constables' eyes on his back he took her elbow dispassionately, supporting her as he might any other victim.

"Are you hurt?" His tongue stumbled over the words, his voice thick with terror and relief.

She shook her head. "My boys, they're all alone -"

"Terry's there."

"Oh thank god." Tears spilled down her face, leaving dusty streaks. "Thank you, Alec."

Swallowing a surge of emotion he guided her toward the steps. "Come on, Ellie," he said gently. "Let's get you home."

 

Ellie waited in the car as Alec exchanged a few last words with DI Crane. She had given her statement, and watched as the family were put into cars and driven away. Her handbag had been taken in as evidence. Her mind whirled with exhaustion and anxiety. 

At last Alec turned toward her, his long strides drawing him quickly nearer. He held his phone pressed to his ear; as he reached the car, he passed it in to her.

"Tom," he said quietly.

She snatched up the phone. "Tom?" she cried, not bothering to steady her voice.

"Mum," he sobbed. "You're all right."

"I'm fine, sweetheart, I'm fine. Are you both okay?"

"I'm okay. Freddy's sick. He ate a whole tin of biscuits. I shouldn't have let him, but it stopped him being scared -"

"It's all right, love. I'll be home soon." Tears poured down her face. "And thank you, sweetheart. You did the right thing, calling Alec. You are so brave -" Her voice broke, and she choked to a stop. "I'll be home soon."

"Okay, Mum. See you."

"See you," she whispered, and passed the phone back to Alec. He walked around the car and slid behind the wheel, waiting as she fastened her belt with shaking hands. Then he backed out of the narrow drive and turned the car toward home.

"I'm sorry," he said when they were under way.

"What for?"

"It's my fault." A flash of light from a passing car gleamed darkly in his eye. "It was my case, my responsibility -"

"Stop it, Alec," she said wearily. 

"If they'd hurt you, I'd -"

"How very gallant." She sighed. "Please, can we just go home? Can we not have guilt and remorse and debts of honor? Please?"

He glanced toward her, startled. "All right."

"Thank you." She took a deep breath. "Now, can you pull off the road for just a moment?"

Frowning, he pulled into a turnout and shut off the car. "What is it?"

"There's just one thing I need from you right now," she said.

"Anything."

She looked at him, his face unreadable in the dark. "Hold me," she whispered.

Instantly he obeyed, his strength pouring into her as he enfolded her in his arms. Slowly her terror began to fade. A sense of peace and safety took its place; her heart ceased its panicked thumping, and her tension eased until she rested snugly against him. For a long moment she lay with her eyes closed, savoring his warmth, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

At long last she withdrew from his embrace. "Take me home," she murmured. "I want to see my children."

He started the car without a word. Ellie sat back in her seat and gazed out the window. Alec's hand found hers and held it gently. The tires sang against the road, and the sleeping countryside rolled swiftly by as they hurtled through the dark toward home.


End file.
